A nervous laugh bubbles out of my throat, but I think I successfully manage to turn it into a cough before he has the chance to comment.
‘Well…’ Hoxton says, his voice clipped. He’s stopped moving around now and in the darkness I can just about make out the shape of his body lying next to mine. ‘Goodnight.’
I swallow. I don’t think I’ve ever felt more awkward in my life. ‘Yes. Um. Yeah. Goodnight.’
I wait for him to say something else but only silence comes. I try to ignore the inherent awkwardness clinging to us right now but, as I nestle deeper into the duvet, trying to cling onto as much warmth as I can, something feels off.
The initial blast of warmth from being in Hoxton’s bed has faded, and the air around me is growing steadily colder. My heart sinks when I realise that the heat isn’t radiating around me like it was when I first entered the room. It’s gone, just like in my room.
At this point, I’m sure I must be a beacon for all the bad luck in the universe because this is justridiculous.
I snap open my eyes and glare into the darkness. ‘Hoxton?’
‘Mm?’
‘Is it just me, or is it getting cold in here, too?’
There’s a pause, then the slight dip of the bed again, followed by the sound of padded footsteps, and then the soft beeping of several digital buttons being pressed in quick succession. No comforting hum of machinery follows, no rush of warm air – just the sound of our twin sighs filling the rapidly cooling room.
‘Great,’ Hoxton murmurs, and I hear the rustle of fabric as he slips back under the duvet again. ‘I think the heating’s conked out here as well.’
‘Perfect,’ I deadpan, the word heavy with sarcasm. ‘Your house really knows how to welcome a guest.’
‘Seems like it.’ His tone matches mine entirely, dry with a hint of resignation.
I shift in the bed, trying to generate some warmth by sheer force of will. It doesn’t work. The cold seeps into my bones and I can’t help but shiver under the duvet. I steal a sideways glance at Hoxton lying beside me, his silhouette barely visible in the darkness. His breathing is steady, an irritating contrast to the chaotic whirlwind of thoughts racing through my mind and the storm outside.
Why doesheget to be cool, calm and collected when it feels like there’s a livewire burrowing its way under my skin right now?
The room, sadly, only gets colder.
We lie there in the dark, each lost in our own thoughts as the chill of the room turns into something almost glacial. I shiver involuntarily, pulling the duvet tighter around me in a lame attempt to conserve any lingering warmth left from before.
After what feels like an eternity, Hoxton finally breaks the silence. ‘I know this isn’t ideal,’ he offers, his voice barely above a whisper in the darkness.
I roll my eyes, then remember he can’t see the action and say, ‘You think?’
He scoffs in response. ‘We could—’ He cuts himself offand I’m pretty sure I hear the sound of his head shaking against his pillow, as if he’s convinced himself that whatever he was about to say wasn’t worth voicing aloud.
I wait a beat or two and then sigh. ‘We could what?’ I ask. He might’ve decided that it’s not worth saying, but we’re running low on options here.
‘Nothing.’ The bed creaks slightly as he shifts beside me.
As the minutes tick by, my body gradually adjusts to the temperature, or maybe I just grow numb to the cold. Either way, exhaustion starts to tug at my eyelids, pulling me towards another uncomfortable night of sleep. I can hear Hoxton’s breathing evening out beside me, a steady rhythm that drags me closer to slumber. I curl around myself as best I can, desperately trying to trap even a sliver of warmth.
Just as I’m starting to teeter on the edge of dreams, a sudden jolt of movement startles me awake. Before I can fully comprehend what’s happening, Hoxton’s arm snakes around my waist, pulling me back against his chest. The warmth of his body is like a furnace against the icy chill of the room, searing through my layers of borrowed clothing and sending a shockwave of heat through me. I tense at the unexpected contact, feeling the solid wall of his chest against my back, his heartbeat steady and reassuring.
In that split second, every rational thought flees my mind, leaving behind a swirling mess of confusion and desire.
I should push him away, demand an explanation, assertmy personal space. But I don’t. Instead, I find myself relaxing into his embrace, the tension and cold draining from my body as if it had never been there.
For a long moment, we lie there in silence, the only sound filling the room our mingled breaths and the howling wind outside. I can feel the rise and fall of his chest with each inhale and exhale, matching my own rhythm with ease.
And then, as if on cue, Hoxton murmurs softly into the darkness, ‘Just for tonight.’
His words hang heavy in the air and I turn slightly in his arms to look over my shoulder at him, but it’s too dark to make out his expression. Instead, I nestle back against him, letting the comforting warmth of his body lull me into a state of drowsy contentment.
As sleep finally claims me, I offer no resistance to the steady beat of Hoxton’s heart against my back.
